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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29951766">Father And Son</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodyoftheVoid/pseuds/MelodyoftheVoid'>MelodyoftheVoid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canonical Character Death, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Insane Wilbur Soot, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Retrospective, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, man y'all have a lot of tags, the fun stuff, you know</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:33:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>809</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29951766</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodyoftheVoid/pseuds/MelodyoftheVoid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil reflects and remembers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Wilbur Soot &amp; Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Father And Son</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>It hadn’t been a large fight that had caused Wilbur to go out on his own. It was something petty, small, no one really at fault but it’d escalated all the same. With nothing more than a small store of food and the guitar on his back, Wilbur was gone. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Though not before giving one last half hearted hug goodbye. As a consolation.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But it was alright, he was his own man now. Techno had moved out a while ago, fighting and making his way in the ranks. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Wilbur would be fine.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>What kind of father wouldn’t let his son learn on his own? </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When word first reached him of the revolution, he’d been surprised. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dream’s server was gaining in popularity, so it was natural for Wilbur to gravitate toward it. He’d loved the spotlight, and where better to go than the newest survival server? Still, a full out revolution? Against one of the strongest PVP’ers active today? It was crazy. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The name L’manburg made him laugh though. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>For a moment, he considered assisting, lending aid after the betrayal by one of their own. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But Wilbur was his own man, he couldn’t just swoop in and take care of him like he was a child anymore. This was a fight that he’d started, an apparent nation he wanted to build. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Wilbur would be ok. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As it had turned out, Wilbur was ok, for a time. He built up a nation, Tommy having successfully negotiated peace, they were holding an election of all things. But then the details had gotten fuzzy, and all Philza knew was that Wilbur and Tommy were exiled, and Schlatt had taken control. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’d once had an empire, one built of ice and snow, and it too had fallen once. Such pitfalls occurred from time to time. Wilbur could recover. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Wilbur, it turned out, would not recover.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>TNT. That was what did it. The festival and an unnecessary death more than enough evidence that events had spiraled wildly out of control. But it wasn’t beyond saving. There was still time.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When he contacted Wilbur, he hardly recognized the voice speaking to him. It was… shaky, uncertain, manic. Even his own name sounded foreign on his tongue. Wilbur lied,<em> lied</em>, to his face, pretending that he wasn’t in the button room, that he was alright.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Even once he was cornered, and Phil had entered the room, Will didn’t look at him, instead gesturing to the signs on the walls, going on about how his pride and joy, the land he’d fought for, wasn’t there anymore. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ve been here so many times Phil, seven or eight times-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> He believed that. He didn’t want to. But he did. </p>
  <p>"You don't want to do this, Will." </p>
  <p>There was a hissing of breath through clenched teeth, a haunting whisper. </p>
  <p>"I do, I really think I do." </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The sound of fireworks burst faintly in the distance, Wilbur’s hand twitching slightly with each concussive explosion. The conflict outside was not helping matters, and for every step he took toward Will, to try and embrace him, to comfort him, his son took another step closer to the button. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Do you really want to risk this? There’s a lot of TNT connected to that button.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Wilbur looked at him, truly looked at him, and for a moment there was the face of a scared boy who’d gotten in over his head, who’d lost something precious and didn’t know what to do next. Then he spoke. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “There was a saying from a traitor- you might have heard of them, Eret.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Will-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “It was never meant to be.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A smile and a salute were all the warning he got before the earth shook below him, his vision an explosion of light and black, wings shielding his foolish son from the immediate consequences of his actions. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> When the dust settled, Phil stared in horror at the crater left in the ground, at his son, smiling wide at the carnage. Laughing maniacally, though it almost sounded like crying. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>How had it come to this? Where had his son gone? Who was this imposter wearing his clothes, his face? He still could not reconcile the difference even as the sword was pressed into his hands, the desperate plea for death spilling forth like song lyrics once had. Poetry replaced by mania. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re my son-“ </p>
  <p>Yet he'd done it all the same at the behest of the boy, desperate for release. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As the sword slid so easily between heaving ribs, he embraced his son goodbye once again. But for a final time. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’d thought that he’d set Wilbur and Techno up as best he could, taught them the ways of the world, but now, as Techno set withers upon the remaining crowd, and Wilbur’s blood cooled on his palms, he knew. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> He let them down. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> What kind of father was he?</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well hello new fandom. Nice to meetcha! Name's Melody, and I specialize in angst and angst related accessories!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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